


the poetic justice of cause and effect

by Merlinnn



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlinnn/pseuds/Merlinnn
Summary: "He hadn’t hated it. He hadn’t hated the way James looked at him, how his mouth felt on his ... it was indescribable and he wanted to hate it, hate himself, but he couldn’t."Set 2018; After dealing with Leah's birth father Billy, Harry makes James an offer. In canon James says no. Here, James can't stop himself saying yes.
Relationships: James Nightingale/Harry Thompson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	the poetic justice of cause and effect

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Am I posting a fic in a basically dead fandom a year after a major character death, and two years after this scene took place? Yes, I am. I began writing this last spring when Hollyoaks was giving us Harry/James content left, right and centre. It lay dormant for a year and I'm now on a rewatch and remembered what I'd begun. As with all my fics, Harry and James live very long, very happy lives together.
> 
> 2\. Shock horror, the title comes from a Faithless song lyric. Is this becoming a thing? Absolutely. The song is 'God is a DJ'.
> 
> 3\. Mandatory disclaimer that Hollyoaks and BK are dead to me and I am still filled with hatred and have not forgiven them for Summer 2019. But this was a sweet moment I wanted to develop and I still love so much of their story together. 
> 
> 4\. Please enjoy! xx

He’d been trying so hard for so long. Prison had only released him a few days ago and he told Tony he’d be staying with James; James who had held his hand and told him softly in that brightly-lit visiting room that they could _just give it a go._

And Harry had heard the manipulative edge to his words, yet Harry had wanted to say yes regardless. 

He trusted James; he knew everything Harry had ever done, every dark and twisted way Harry hated himself yet still he wanted to be with him. Where else was he gonna find that kind of faith? He was a washed-up ex-convict rent boy after all. 

xx

But then he was released from prison and he’d found Ste in the Village, mere seconds from taking crack again and this, this was familiar.

Grabbing Ste’s hands and yanking the drugs away from him, clasping Ste’s face between his hands and telling him how _it wasn’t worth it,_ and _he was better than this,_ and _think of Leah and Lucas, what would they say eh?_ and that was what made sense to Harry, that was what coming home felt like. 

He pressed his lips to Ste’s, kissed him and let himself be kissed and knew that this was safe, and easy and sensible and normal. 

James was a risk. James was dangerous, wasn’t that what everyone kept telling him? Being with Ste was what was right. And loving Leah and Lucas was like a snap back to reality. He’d never anticipated being a step-father but he adored them, truly he did, and they grounded him back to Earth, the thought of seeing them again. 

Being with James was a pipe dream.

xx

Except then Harry had been running through a forest chasing after Ryan. Ryan, who’d murdered Amy and let both him and Ste rot in prison for it, _Ste, who Ryan claimed to love, who he wanted to run away with_.

Harry couldn’t get more than a few hours sleep every night without jerking awake, breath clutching in his chest as he struggled to get air into his lungs. He’d kick Ste, kick him and punch him and pummel at his chest until Ste had enough and shook him awake. Prison had _ruined_ him, and it was all Ryan’s fault.

So when he’d been stood beside that canal lock, leaning over the flimsy wooden barrier watching Ryan cling for dear life to the slimy stonework, it was like a switch had flipped in Harry’s brain. He could hear Ryan calling out for help, begging for Harry to pull him out and save him and Harry had walked away, Ryan’s voice soon drowned out by the torrents of water rushing through. 

As he’d later think to himself, Ryan had deserved it. He was a murderer, cold-blooded and calculating. 

This was just deserts. 

Harry had stalked away from the canal banks, refusing to look back at where he’d left Ryan to drown and he could feel the Harry that Ste never saw bubbling beneath the surface. This was the Harry that slept with strangers for money without a second thought; the Harry that had beaten a man bloody in prison in return for his own safety; this was the Harry that James had clasped by the neck, grip tight and making him feel something, _anything_. 

This Harry was what he tried so hard to bury in his subconscious. 

xx

It was only natural he’d go to James when the police came knocking about Ryan’s death; James after all, was the one who knew Harry best. 

He’d seen the absolute worst of him and still asked him to move in, given him that chance. He knew he’d blown it, had chosen Ste once again. 

Yet James still helped, heads bent close in that suffocating room at the police station. Harry felt the same dark thrill that had struck through him as he’d left Ryan to die shiver down his spine; he was manipulating James to do his bidding and help him out, and the thought barely repulsed him. 

And telling James the truth had always been so fucking easy for him, there never had been any pretense or need to lie. James accepted it, and accepted him and would just… move on. 

He couldn’t tell Ste, couldn’t tell him how he’d left Ryan to die just as he’d left Amy. Ste wouldn’t get it, no, he’d just yell and then weep and then run away and then do drugs and come back begging for forgiveness.

xx

Time passed and he and Ste were making a real go of things. They worked stuff out, and Ste forgave him when the truth about Ryan came out. There was even talk of marriage again, of opening Cindy’s Hatch and starting a real business together.

xx

Except it gave Harry an illicit thrill to ask James to help him with Billy. And while he truly did need his help, having fucked up trying to beat him out of town, knowing that Ste would have disapproved made it all the more exciting. 

_Not that he should have found that exciting, it should have made him hesitant, concerned._

Finding James _hot_ as they’d cornered Billy at the Folly, spouting whatever pretentious bullshit James had pulled out of thin air that sounded vaguely professional wasn’t meant to be a part of the plan, but there it was. Harry did. 

It made him feel grown up, and clever to know someone as smart as James. One-upping Billy had sent a tingle down his spine. He’d watched James pack away the fake papers and felt his heart thud against his breastbone, knew what he wanted but could never have. 

_Now or never; that was always the way with James wasn’t it._

“How about we go back to yours? Have a drink to celebrate,” he asked, voice casual as he watched James pause for just a millisecond before sending him a flippant smile.

“Sure. Sounds good,” he’d said and he was off, disappearing out of the Folly to meet with his real clients. 

Harry felt a rushing sensation from his toes to the crown of his head; this was wrong, and _bad_ , yet as he pulled out his phone it felt overwhelmingly right. 

xx 

  
  


“Huh. Turns out there was no client,” said James, frowning as he hung up his phone and turned to Harry.

“Good, that means you can relax,” he smiled, already taking off his jacket and draping it over one of the barstools as if he owned it. 

James struggled not to see the Harry of six months ago, as anxious as a fly in a web yet so self-righteously _himself;_ actively taking up the free space of James’s flat yet holding an air of hesitancy as though it could be ripped from him in a moment. 

This Harry was entirely without qualms. 

“What will you tell Ste?” asked James, gathering his crystalline wine glasses from the sink and the chilled bottle of white from the fridge. It had been intended for him and Kyle. A sort of apology gift. 

“Well what Ste doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Harry nonchalantly and as James turned around, hands poised to open the wine, he was faced with a sight he’d spent literal months pining over. Harry smirked up at him, flipping open the last button on his shirt before taking it off completely and tossing it onto the counter.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

xx

It was sheer dumb luck that James didn’t drop the expensive bottle of wine and even more expensive wine glasses. He stared down at Harry in abject shock before moving his jaw in approximation of words.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally managed, setting the wine on the counter. Harry frowned, squinting at James as though he was an imbecile.

“What does it look like,” he responded, taking a step closer and placing a hand over James’s ribcage.

“What… about Ste,” said James softly, voice barely above a whisper as his heart thudded away beneath Harry’s hand.

“Don’t worry about Ste,” whispered Harry, running his other hand down James’s arm to clasp at his hand. 

James finally glanced down at him, bare chest flushed and rising with his every breath. God, he’d wanted for so long. He snaked a hand over Harry’s cheek, thumb brushing over the curve of it before bending down to kiss him. 

It was like kissing him for the first time all over again, all new and gentle before Harry remembered where he was, who he was with, felt that terrible thrill in the base of his stomach. 

He grasped at James’s head, hand curled into the short hairs at the back of his neck to pull him closer and kiss him rougher, tongue pushing violently into his mouth. 

Kissing Ste never felt like that. 

James pulled away then, Harry’s hand sliding to rest over the top of his collar, fingers sweeping at the skin beneath. 

His gaze was heated as he looked up at James, tongue swiping over his lip, and James’s breath caught. 

This was a mistake. He was with Kyle, and he felt something for Kyle, truly. 

But this was so _right_. It felt like no time had passed since he’d last kissed Harry, and his hand stretched out to run down the smooth planes of Harry’s chest, muscles twitching as he stroked over his nipple. 

“James?” said Harry hesitantly, fingers still stroking at the skin of James’s neck. 

James lifted his eyes to match Harry’s gaze, and felt the weight of it bearing down on him. He could never get used to this. And this is what he wanted. 

James bent down again to press their lips back together, opening his mouth as Harry slipped his tongue in, brushing over James’s. Harry’s hands slid down over James’s chest and made rapid work of the buttons, a laugh escaping him as James fought with his cuffs before tugging it off and letting it flutter to the floor. 

Harry felt the heat of James’s skin, the softness beneath his fingertips as he ran over his breast, thumbing at his nipples and earning a heady sigh in response. He stroked over the sides of his abdomen, coming to rest at the sensitive small of James’s back, feeling the downy hair there. 

James responded imperceptibly, a slight twitch in his shoulders as he grasped at Harry’s neck, pulling him closer, forcing his tongue further into his mouth. It was wet and dirty and rough and Harry felt a bolt of desire through his body.

James backed him towards the counter until the top of it pressed into Harry’s spine, and without warning he lifted Harry up onto the counter. Harry yelped sharply, hands digging into the soft flesh of James’s shoulders in surprise, but James only responded with a grin, pressing their mouths together in a soft brush of lips, before kissing him again, tongue thrusting into Harry’s mouth. 

James slid his hands to the buckle of Harry’s belt, and Harry gave a sharp tug on James’s hair, pulling their mouths apart to look down at him as he deftly undid the buckle and unzipped Harry’s jeans. 

Harry felt his pulse hammer in his neck, as James looked up at him, eyes heated and languid, lips shiny and swollen. He looked ruined already, and Harry felt his mouth drying. _He’d_ done that, and there was no doubt he looked similarly debauched.

James’s hand ran over the front of Harry’s exposed boxers, rubbing the fabric over his already hard erection, and Harry felt the breath constrict in his chest. 

James was still looking at him, absorbing the sharp inhale, the way his nostrils flared as he repeated the motions, running his hand over Harry’s clothed dick and refusing to release it from his boxers. James was loving this, his smile sly, and Harry whined petulantly.

“Jamess,” he said, voice trailing on the ‘s’ sound as he bucked uselessly, James’s other hand pressing his hips to the counter.

James gave a short laugh before easing up, grabbing the waist of both jeans and boxers and pulling them down Harry’s thighs as Harry kicked his trainers off. With a shake of his legs, Harry’s trousers fell to the floor, joining James’s shirt. 

James looked at him, sat naked on the kitchen counter, cock thick and heavy as it curled slightly towards his stomach. Harry felt a familiar thrill shiver through him; it wasn’t the first time James had looked at him like that, like he was beautiful, and hot, and his. 

Harry tensed his ab muscles and James laughed briefly, hand pressed to the hard flesh under the soft skin as he kissed Harry again. Gentler this time, tongue lapping softly at his lower lip. 

He took Harry in his hand and pulled upwards, Harry groaning into his mouth as his hips twitched automatically. James moved his hand on his cock again, sliding slowly from base to tip and dragging the foreskin with each movement, and Harry made that same whining noise again. He both hated it and loved it when James teased him like this.

“What do you want, Harry?” said James, voice rough as he spoke quietly into the shared breath of their faces pressed close together.

“Anything,” said Harry quickly. He didn’t care; he just needed something, anything, as he felt his stomach clench. This wasn’t enough, James’s hand moving teasingly slow over his straining cock. 

“Anything?” said James in amusement, removing his hand completely to kiss Harry once more before sliding his hands over his shoulder blades and gently laying him back on the counter. 

Harry frowned up at him as James fingered at Harry’s collarbone, pressing against the protruding bone and thumb digging to the hollow of his throat. He leaned forward and kissed Harry sharply before sliding to kiss at his jaw, over his neck, sucking gently at the skin where his thumb had just dug in. 

He continued to kiss down Harry’s body, and Harry shivered in anticipation, back arching as James tongued at his left nipple and then his right, giving the taut skin a tiny nip with his teeth. 

Harry looked down the planes of his body as best as possible, running a hand through James’s hair and tugging gently at his scalp as he kissed at Harry’s bellybutton, over his hipbone. 

Harry moved back slightly on the counter, spreading his legs further apart as James slid a hand over one knee to open the leg, mouthing at the delicate skin of his inner thigh and worrying at it with his teeth.

“James,” said Harry with a warning tone, and James moved on before he could leave any bruises.

Both felt a stark, cold reminder then of what this meant, but as James kissed at the joint of Harry’s groin, any protests drifted away. 

James slid his hands under Harry’s legs, shifting one leg to rest on his shoulder and the other wrapped tight around his waist. He pressed the tiniest kiss to the base of Harry’s cock, and Harry’s leg tugged at him, socked foot digging into his spine. 

Harry looked down at James, catching his gaze as his mouth poised over his leaking cock, and once more Harry felt that familiar jolt of desperate arousal. 

“Please,” he whispered, voice barely a breath, but it was all that was required as that one, begging sound broke James down. 

How could he deny him? 

With one swift movement he took the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth, hand grasping at the base. Harry gave an audible shout, the sudden wet heat a surprise as he again bucked ineffectually. James slid down, taking as much of Harry in his mouth as he could, tonguing at the thick vein on the underside. Harry’s hand found its way back into James’s hair, tugging at the roots as he slid back and forth. 

James slanted his eyes open, catching Harry’s and Harry jerked uncontrollably at the sight of James, mouth slipping over his cock over and over, breath panting through his nose. 

James slid his eyes shut again, concentrating on the weight of Harry on his tongue, the tip of him catching beautifully in his throat on every down stroke. He could feel Harry’s thighs tensing, tugging his body closer to him, foot arching against his spine. 

He dragged the foreskin down with his hand and suckled at the head, Harry’s mouth slipping open in a moan as he twisted his head to the side. 

James focused his attention on the head of his cock, tonguing insistently on the overly sensitive underside before pressing his tongue demandingly to the slit, earning a breathless shudder through Harry’s body. He repeated the motion and Harry’s eyes squeezed shut, fingers hanging on the lip of his open mouth as he tried to arch into the heat of James’s mouth again. 

James’s hand moved faster as he continued slipping his tongue into the exposed slit, and Harry felt the familiar coiling low in his stomach, the pressure building. James insistently suckled at him before pulling his hand away and swallowing him whole once more, Harry’s length sliding down his throat. 

“James,” gasped Harry and it was all the warning he could give as he came, the sudden heat and suction and pressure of James’s mouth tight over his cock too much for him. His hand was in James’s hair, pressing him close as he bucked twice, head twisted back in a speechless moan. 

Finally, he released the strands of hair he’d been yanking on, sliding bonelessly back against the counter. James released Harry from his mouth and through half-lidded eyes, Harry saw him swallow once before licking softly at the head of his softening cock to clean him. 

Unthinkingly, Harry reached out and pulled at James’s neck, pressing their mouths together insistently as he tasted the salt of himself on James’s tongue. That alone sent another thrill down his spine.

“James,” he said again against his lips, seemingly the only word he did know, but as their foreheads pressed together, Harry knew it conveyed so much more. 

It was _thank you,_ and _that was so fucking good_ , and _you’ve ruined me_ , and _I hate you but I can’t_. 

James darted his tongue over his lips, tasting Harry and smiling at the thought. Harry struggled to sit up, forcing his muscles into action as he pressed his own hand to the front of James’s trousers, erection pressing against the fabric. He began to tug at the buckle, head leaning into the join of neck and shoulder where he was lazily mouthing, when a loud vibration sounded somewhere far off. 

Harry lifted his head, following the sound to James’s coat on the counter. James ignored it, capturing Harry’s head between his hands and kissing him insistently, when it rang again. James winced before leaning over and rifling the pockets. It was an unknown number and he frowned as he lifted it to his ear, Harry still palming the front of his pants.

“James Nightingale,” he said, and Harry snickered at the absurdity. It was James’s work voice, yet here he was with his arms full of a boneless, naked Harry.

“I’m sorry, what?” said James seriously, taking a step back and frowning.

“Okay I’ll be right there,” he said, hanging up and looking at Harry with darkened eyes. Harry felt his blood run cold and suddenly felt incredibly exposed and naked.

“It’s Kyle. In hospital,” explained James, mouth dry. 

His boyfriend was in hospital, and mere minutes ago he’d had a mouth full of Harry’s cock. He felt his chest heave slightly, and as he looked at Harry he recognised his expression mirrored. 

_Ste_ , thought Harry, stomach falling slightly. What had he been thinking, stripping for James like that? Over one little favour no less.

“I need to go,” whispered James, bending down to yank on his shirt, passing Harry’s trousers over to him from the floor. Harry hopped off the counter and dressed as rapidly as possible, skin itching. 

James managed to button his shirt swiftly, fiddling once again with the cuffs before grabbing his coat.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, pulling it on before pausing to look at the unkempt, half dressed and pale looking Harry before him. Gently he leaned forwards and kissed him, a soft brush of their lips, and he felt Harry swallow beneath him.

“Let yourself out,” he said, already heading out the door without a backwards glance. He paused on the steps leading to his flat, heart thundering in his breast. 

That was everything he’d ever imagined it could’ve been, and he could still taste Harry in the back of his throat. He’d have to pick up mints on the way to the hospital. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach; he did care about Kyle, chest tightening in worry as he ran through the possibilities. He was in the hospital, injured or ill or worse and James hadn’t been able to stop himself. 

He’d never be able to stop himself. 

Swallowing the rising nausea in his throat, James ran a hand through his hair, teasing it into a semblance of order before setting off at a rapid pace, refusing to look back at his flat. 

xx

Back inside, Harry took his time pulling his shirt back on and bending to relace his trainers, hands shaking with each movement. 

Finally dressed, he turned and braced his hands against the countertops, eyes shut against the image of himself splayed out, head tossed back, James’s mouth insistent on him. 

_Christ_ , what had he been thinking? 

He felt the familiar twist of disgust low in his stomach, followed by the sick heave of self hatred. 

He wasn’t sure why he’d done it; as a test, to see if he could? Or another punishment for himself, for beating up Billy? When had his life become so violent? 

Yet as Harry ran his thumb over his lip and down, over the hollow of his throat, he felt the familiar shiver in his body. 

He hadn’t hated it. He hadn’t hated the way James looked at him, how his mouth felt on his. Tasting himself on James’s tongue after; it was indescribable and he wanted to hate it, hate himself, but he couldn’t.

“James,” he growled to the empty air of the flat, hands clenched to fists on the counter. He didn’t want to feel like this, but even then he was hungry for more. 

Finally he moved away, violently grabbing his jacket and sliding it on as he slipped out the flat, yanking the door shut harder than necessary. 

It had been a mistake, regardless of how he had felt. He opened his phone and found a dozen missed calls from Ste. 

He’d pre-emptively put it on silent. 

With a guilty clench of his teeth, he began listening to them as he walked away from the flat.

xx 

It was only years later, when Harry was sat childishly on the counter, legs swinging and banging against the cupboards as he watched James cook beside him, did the memory come flooding back and he felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“Do you remember…” he said, voice tailing off as he felt himself blush further.

“Remember?” asked James, glancing up at him as he gave the sautéed vegetables a quick stir. Harry laughed then, dramatically leaning backwards until he was horizontal and spreading his legs before sitting back up. He saw James blush too, lip caught in his teeth before he turned away to grab the sauce from the fridge.

“I remember,” he said, his face still turned away. Harry had been amused, but he felt an anxiety pass through him. James hadn’t laughed.

“Do you regret it?” asked Harry simply, and James paused. They’d never talked about it. Had skipped over it like it was nothing; it had been ancient history by the time they got together properly. James looked at Harry thoughtfully, and Harry was sure he could hear the cogs turning.

“No,” he said finally, and it was like a weight lifting from Harry, “I don’t regret it but neither of us were in a good place.”

Harry hummed his agreement then, still watching as James added the sauce to the vegetables, seasoning with a whole host of little jars and giving it all a stir.

“You?” asked ames quietly, and Harry shook his head. 

The guilt had killed him for days, but it had almost felt worth it to have seen James look at him the way he did. Besides, it was easier to forgive himself for this than for prostitution.

James lifted a spoon to Harry’s mouth and he tasted the curry and nodded emphatically in appreciation, to which James smiled and covered the pan with a lid, setting it to simmer. 

He stepped back from the counter and with a sly, cunning smile, Harry slid off the countertop straight to his knees, grabbing at James’s hips and turning him so he was pressed hard against the cabinets. 

“Guess it’s time I returned the favour then,” said Harry cheekily, already opening James’s belt and zipper as James laughed heartily above him, laugh swiftly reduced to a sharp gasp and a hand in Harry’s hair.

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism is always so welcome please help a girl out xx


End file.
